Escape
by nano2015
Summary: They have the courage to escape, but what about life after liberation? These are outtakes of a story I'm working on turning into a script. Reviews are appreciated. Note - these are not all in order.
1. Chapter 1

Derek and Jackson were studying their captors, and a small vent, too high on the wall for any of them to reach. By this time, they all knew the sound of footsteps approaching, and the jingle of the keys. They all knew what it meant, and they had all deadened themselves to it.

But this idea that was brewing in Derek's mind brought with it a measure of hope. He boosted Jackson up to look closer, and Jackson examined it closely. They sat together in the corner.

"It's small," Jackson signed. "But I can see daylight through it, and the opening seems to be the smallest part. We can only guess that the opening on the other side is the same size." They both looked over at Peter and Isaac. Then Jackson turned back to Derek. Derek knew what he was thinking.

"We can't. It's too much to risk." Derek said, shaking his head.

"Ask him," Jackson signed. Derek called a meeting, and they all sat together in the corner furthest from the door. Derek whispered the idea, and for a long time, no one said anything. Finally, Isaac spoke up.

"Boost me up so I can get a look at it." Jackson and Derek cupped their hands and lifted Isaac up to the vent. Isaac lifted it out of its hole, and peered through into the dim space. "I think I can fit. Should I try?"

"No," Derek said as they lowered Isaac back to the floor. "We have to wait until we're sure its clear to give you the best chance."

"Do you think you can do it?" Jackson asked. Isaac looked up at the vent, and then from one to the next.

"I can do it."

"I should go with you," Peter said. "It would be better for two of us to go than just one."

"I can do this," Isaac said. "I'll get help."

They waited until after their captor brought them their food for the next day, and then Jackson and Derek boosted Isaac up to the vent. Isaac carefully pried it loose, and handed it down to Peter. Stiles stood by the door, listening for any noise outside. Isaac wiggled his way into the vent, getting stuck for one terrifying moment, before he managed to squeeze through.

The space behind the vent was wide, but only about a foot high. It seemed to be the underside of the house. Looking around, Isaac had an idea. He popped his head back through.

"Come with me," he whisper hissed. "You know what they'll do if they find out one of us is missing." So, one by one, they hoisted first Peter, then Stiles, through the hole. Peter and Isaac helped to pull Jackson through, and then Derek. For an added touch, they managed to put the vent back behind them. They crawled to the far end, where air was faintly coming through, and Derek wigged the vent off. It was dark outside, and they couldn't hear much. Derek went first, pulling himself out of the hole. He looked around cautiously before gesturing to the others to follow. Peter came first, then Isaac, then Stiles, and finally Jackson, who had gone back to the other vent to make sure their departure wasn't noticed. The five of them crept away from their prison on silent feet. Down a wooded hill, they came to a road. They walked along it single-file, all of them listening for any sound behind them. Hope bloomed when they started to see evidence of a town coming up. They walked and walked, knowing that to stop would give their captors a chance to find them. By the time they reached the actual town, Derek was helping Stiles along, and all of them were freezing. But then they saw the one place where they knew they would be safe. The police department. All of them quickened their pace, and finally, _finally_ , they pushed the door open and more or less tumbled inside. There were two officers on duty, an both of them sprang to action. One called the first responders, while the other, a woman, went to them and tried to get out of them who they were, and what had happened to them. What she saw were five, rail thin, pale as chalk, soaking wet boys, who had obviously gone through some kind of prolonged trauma. But when they looked up at her, she knew who they were in an instant.

"You're- people have been looking for you all for years," she said. The first responders arrived, and she stepped back. "Carl, those boys have been missing for years. Everyone assumed they were dead."

The medics worked on each boy, with particular focus on Stiles. The others were exhausted, but awake and alert, but, having reached safety, Stiles had passed out cold. And there was something else about him. Something more than the ghostly pallor they all had from years of no sunlight. They could tell he was sick.

They loaded Stiles onto a stretcher, but when they started to wheel him out, Derek stopped them.

"We stay together," he said.

"But that isn't-" one medic started.

"Of course," her supervisor cut her off. Derek led the group, and Jackson brought up the rear, all following the stretcher to the waiting ambulance. They crowded on the seat meant for two people, and one of the medics worked on Stiles, putting an IV in his hand, checking his pulse and temperature. The ride to the hospital was short, and the four of them kept close to the stretcher carrying Stiles. "Give them the very best care," the supervisor said. "Ignore cost."

The boys were brought to a large room, several times the size of the basement prison. Nurses scrambled to bring in beds and supplies for them. The boys stood in a tense circle, watching the flurry of activity. One nurse came over and with a basket of soap and toiletries, and a stack of clean towels.

"There is a bathroom," she said. "You can shower and wash. Someone will bring you clean clothes, so you can change."

Another nurse brought in a stack of sweatshirts and sweatpants. The boys nodded their thanks, and the two nurses had to look away, fighting their emotions. When they were gone, one by one the boys showered and changed. Derek was in the bathroom brushing his teeth when Jackson knocked on the open doorway. Derek looked at him in the reflection.

"Stiles's awake," Jackson said. Derek nodded and rinsed his mouth, before going out to that clean room and over to Stiles's bed. Stiles was looking around, too tired to fight whatever was going on.

"Hey," Derek said. Stiles' eyes snapped to him. "It's okay. We're safe here."

"Where are we?"

"A hospital. They're nice so far," Derek said. Peter and Isaac were watching TV. Jackson sat at the table, and when Derek looked over, he started to sign.

"I don't like this. We shouldn't stay here. What if it's a trap?"


	2. Chapter 2

"Stiles, the world is not that bad of a place," Derek said, closing the door to the flat behind them. He locked all three locks before turning back to Stiles. Stiles was in the kitchen, making coffee, but he paused with measuring the grounds when Derek came up behind him. Derek took the scoop and set it aside, pressing up behind Stiles until they were flush together. He turned him around so they were facing each other. "I know we've seen some shit, you and me, but there's so much more to the world than that." He leaned in to kiss him, but Stiles turned his head at the last moment.

"No."

"You aren't going to make me sick," Derek said. But Stiles still shook his head, turning back to the coffee. Derek stepped back, moving around the kitchen, putting their groceries away. All of the sudden, a loud banging on the door made them both freeze.

"Derek? Derek, it's us, open up." Peter. Derek went to the peephole to make sure. Sure enough, Peter and Jackson were standing their supporting Isaac between them. Derek opened the door, and Stiles was already on the phone, calling Alex.

"What happened?" Derek asked. Peter sat down on the couch, and Isaac sat next to him, eyes dull and unfocused.

"Panic attack. We were out at the park, and he saw somebody he recognized." Marley, Peter and Jackson's little dog, trotted over and whined until Jackson sat with her on the couch. A quiet knock sent Derek over to the door again. This time, he opened it for Alex. Stiles came in with cocoa and blankets.

Once Isaac was asleep, with Marley curled up with him, the five older boys gathered around the table.

"Who?" Derek asked.

"The pastor. Father Peterson. Scar on his temple, you remember him," Jackson gestured, his disgust clear. "Eyeing the children as if they were his next conquest. Isaac was running with Marley, and he just sort of froze. You know how he gets. So we brought him here." Stiles got up, jaw clenched, and stalked to the kitchen. Derek followed him, and found him crouched in the corner, his head in his hands.

"It's going to be-"

Don't tell me it'll be okay," Stiles spat. "Will it be okay for Isaac when he gets a panic attack so bad he can't think? Will it be okay that Jackson will never speak again? It will never be okay."

"I know." Derek sat down next to him, both of them with their backs against the cabinets. Peter came in with his mug, and when they looked up at him, the thin silvery scar that ran across his neck drew their eyes. Jackso had an almost identical one, but neither had to say how they got them. Peter put the mug in the sink and left. A moment later, they heard the TV turn on, and the opening music of a movie. Stiles pushed himself up and offered Derek a hand. He didn't let go right away, and Derek understood.


End file.
